Child of the Sword, Book 1 of The Gods Within (4 page)

Twice more he awoke in the bare stone cell,
naked and alone, and twice more he escaped from the witch’s den to
the city beyond. Each time he returned to his lair to taste the
gesh
, and each time he was racked with convulsions and
fainted.

A fourth time he awoke, naked and alone. And
a fourth time he made his way to the courtyard below, but this time
he could not escape. There was an invisible something that filled
the gaps between the bars of the gate. He could feel it, but not
see it, and it prevented his passing. He tried the wall, but it was
too high and he found no purchase for climbing. He spent the entire
day working his way around the compound, seeking some means of
escape, and found every path blocked in one fashion or another.

Late that afternoon he returned to the front
gate, desperate, exhausted, and hungry for
gesh
. In his
frustration he began chewing on the lock and rattling its
mechanism.

“You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”

At the sound of the voice Rat dove for the
nearest shadow, froze, and looked on as one of the witchwomen
approached. She stopped some distance from him and smiled
pleasantly. “Don’t be afraid, Rat. I won’t hurt you. I am AnnaRail,
and I am here to teach you, for you have much to learn, and the
first thing you must learn is your new name. From this moment on
you will be called ‘Morgin’, and no one will ever again call you
‘Rat.’”

She finished speaking by passing her hand
before her as if to emphasize her words, though for an instant
Morgin thought he saw a faint red flash dance among her fingertips.
But he dismissed that thought quickly, and his eyes darted between
her and the gate.

“Now that is the second thing you must
learn, Morgin. I have placed a spell upon you. You will not again
leave this compound without my permission.”

“
Gesh
,” he croaked, his voice
guttural and harsh.

“And that, Morgin, is the third thing you
must learn.” Her voice surprised Morgin, for there was sadness in
it. “You have sampled the pleasures of
gesh
, and now you
must pay a price for that pleasure, and I am afraid you will find
that lesson harsh in the extreme.

“Never again will you enjoy
gesh
, for
I have placed another spell upon you, a spell that will remain
until you are old enough to remove it yourself. And that will not
be for a very long time. You will suffer in the learning of this
lesson, but I will be by your side, and I will help you as much as
I can.”

She held out her hand. “Come with me now,
Morgin. It’s time for you to begin a new life.”

He hissed at her like a snake,
“Ssssssssss!”

Her eyes saddened. “Won’t you be my friend?
Come now. Take my hand.”

Morgin was tempted—this witch seemed kind.
He considered her carefully for a moment, then slowly, cautiously,
he emerged from his shadow, and with distrust written in every
move, he edged closer, step by step, until he was near enough to
lean forward and sniff the outstretched hand.

It was sweet, and soft, and gentle.

Quickly he scanned the courtyard, assuring
himself that this was no trap, that there were no other witches
waiting in hiding to snare him. Then warily he reached out and
placed his hand in hers, and began a journey from which there could
be no return.

AnnaRail stood quietly to one side while
Malka and Olivia spoke in subdued tones. She cared little about
what was said and was wisely silent, forcing herself to remain
calm. Olivia’s machinations were a constant source of irritation.
The old woman thrived on intimidation, and one of her favorite
tactics was to force someone to stand idly by after being summoned
urgently to her audience chamber. Sometimes she would even talk
about a person as if they weren’t there, when all along they stood
nearby waiting patiently to be acknowledged. And the
gods
help any fool brash enough to speak before being acknowledged.

A crude squeeze on AnnaRail’s left buttock
startled her out of her thoughts. Turning, she found Roland and
fixed him with an angry stare. He looked back with an evil grin.
Quickly she scanned the room, assuring herself that no one had seen
his playfulness.

He leaned close to her and whispered, “You
looked so intense, my love. I felt drastic measures were called
for.”

She smiled pleasantly.

He leaned even closer, stretching his neck
to kiss her on the cheek. She continued to smile, laid her hand
softly on his arm, and pinched with a determination she hoped would
draw blood.

He forgot the kiss, stifled a groan, stepped
back suddenly. It was her turn to display an evil grin.

“Is something wrong, Roland?” Olivia
demanded, glaring at him.

“Oh! No, mother,” he said. “Just a little
itch.”

“Then kindly be still.”

“Yes, mother.”

Olivia and Malka returned to their
conversation. Roland smiled at AnnaRail with a look that admitted
he’d gotten what he deserved. She smiled back, then let her eyes
drift lazily about Olivia’s audience chamber.

The room was too small to entertain more
than a few selected guests. There were two couches, small tables,
large throw-rugs, and a hearth for heat during the winter. It was a
warm and comfortable room that contrasted sharply with the old
woman’s cold and impersonal nature. Olivia preferred to conduct
important business here, reserving the Hall of Wills for ceremonial
occasions and large crowds.

Marjinell said something that Olivia didn’t
like. The old woman stared her into silence.

Poor Marjinell, thought AnnaRail, always
trapped between Olivia and Malka, mother and son, both cold and
powerful, though Malka was not nearly so willful. Of course
Marjinell deserved most of the scorn they heaped upon her. She was
a cow, self-centered and often stupid, but she had borne two strong
sons, and she was a good mother, so she was tolerated.

“AnnaRail,” Olivia called. “Attend me.”

AnnaRail stepped forward and bowed
lightly.

Olivia patted the spot next to her on the
couch. “Sit beside me and tell me of the child Morgin. Roland.
Malka. Marjinell. Gather around. I’m sure we’re all interested in
AnnaRail’s report.”

Report?
AnnaRail thought. Of course.
The old woman considered this a report on the piece of property
named Morgin so that she and Malka could determine how he might
best serve House Elhiyne. AnnaRail hoped it would not be necessary
to defy the old woman again. She had done so with her first born
DaNoel, and the battle had been hard fought, and hard won, only
because she had remained steadfast against the old witch.

“Does this Morgin child still act like an
untamed animal?” Olivia asked. “You’ve had almost half a year now
to train him.”

“He is learning,” AnnaRail said. “Perhaps
slowly, but he is learning.”

“I should hope so,” Marjinell sneered.
“After what I went through for him. And I allowed my oldest son to
be placed in danger just to save that little ragamuffin’s
life.”

The silence that followed was embarrassing
for Malka, who tried to end it quickly. “The servants speak of him
as if he were a demon from hell. Is he that unruly?”

AnnaRail smiled at that. “Not unruly. Just
curious, forever trying to learn the purpose of everything that
catches his eye. His problem with the servants is that he gets in
their way.”

“Does he satisfy his curiosity with
questions?” Malka asked.

“No,” AnnaRail said. “And that is the
problem. He rarely speaks without prompting. He watches and
listens, and if he’s curious, he waits until he’s alone, then
acts.”

“A bad habit, that,” Malka said. “We’ll have
to break him of it.”

“The meddling, yes,” AnnaRail said. “But not
the curiosity. If anything, that must be encouraged. It’s healthy.
It’s good for him.”

“Very well,” Olivia said. “His curiosity
will not be discouraged, but the servants will be given permission
to punish him if he acts up.”

“Is he housebroken yet?” Marjinell asked.
“Or am I going to continue finding dung in the corners?”

AnnaRail suppressed a laugh as she
remembered the evening Marjinell had come screaming from her
chambers. Morgin was neat, and careful to leave his droppings in an
out-of-the-way corner. Unfortunately, he’d chosen a corner in
Marjinell’s suite.

“He’s housebroken,” AnnaRail said, “though
it took some time. But once we left Anistigh his training
progressed in leaps and bounds. It seems the ride to these estates
was long enough to impress upon him the futility of escape, and he
quickly learned that he must learn. Since then his vocabulary has
improved greatly. He can now carry on a literate, if halting,
conversation, though, as I said, he rarely speaks without
prompting. That’s why I think it’s time he joined the other
children at their lessons. He’ll learn much faster, and it’s time
he began learning to interact with others.”

“What about his magic?” Malka asked. “How
well does he understand the shadows?”

AnnaRail shook her head. “He doesn’t even
know he’s using magic. Whenever he’s seriously frightened he seems
to use it naturally, much as you and I breathe without conscious
thought. And as for the shadows, he thinks he’s just hiding within
those that are already there. He has no idea he’s creating them
himself.”

“That’s not good,” Roland said. “It’s going
to be difficult to make him aware of his power.”

“It’s worse than that,” AnnaRail said. “He
uses it to hide from his responsibilities and avoid punishment. And
if we allow that to continue, he’ll never learn to face up to a
disagreeable situation.”

“I could create a spell that would prevent
him from using such magic,” Olivia said offhandedly.

AnnaRail shook her head. “Thank you, mother,
but no. He must be taught the proper use of magic. We must forbid
its improper use, and punish him when he disobeys. Unfortunately, I
seem to be particularly susceptible to his shadows. That is why I
must ask the rest of you to take a hand in this. Roland, you in
particular seem to be immune. And you also, mother.”

“Very well,” Olivia said. “I see no reason
why the family cannot act as one in this. It shall be so.” And that
was that. The most powerful witch in the Lesser Clans had spoken.
“But I asked you to learn his parentage. Did you conduct a
seeking?”

AnnaRail hesitated for a moment, and when
she did speak, she was unable to hide a slight tremble in her
voice. “I . . . attempted a seeking.”

“You
attempted
a seeking?” Malka
asked warily.

“Yes.”

“And?” Olivia prompted.

“I . . . failed.”

The room was suddenly silent. “Explain
yourself,” Olivia demanded sharply.

AnnaRail hesitated, but it was no use trying
to hide her own fear of the ordeal. “I took a preliminary survey of
the child’s contact with the netherworld. Based upon what I
perceived there I placed several minor wards and a demon under
geas, whose continued existence was dependent upon my safety. I
found much pain, much sorrow and unhappiness, and no joy. And fear.
I found fear above all else.”

Olivia, Malka, and Roland listened raptly.
Marjinell seemed preoccupied with a mirror.

“Between birth,” AnnaRail continued, “and an
undefined time several years ago—probably his entry into life in
the market in Anistigh—there is a large period of time that is
ruled absolutely by fear. I decided to investigate further, but
when I tried to enter it I was trapped by the fear that exists
there. I was almost consumed, and when I tried to leave, I could
not. The demon pulled me from that existence screaming in terror. I
freed the demon, released the wards, and have not returned to that
place since.” As an afterthought she added, “And I will not, though
the
gods
themselves order me to.”

“Kill it,” Marjinell burst out. “Kill the
little monster before it harms someone.”

“No,” Roland shouted.

“Yes.”

“No. You’ll have to kill me first.”

“Silence,” Olivia demanded. She looked at
Roland sharply. “I don’t believe you really mean that, son.”

Roland calmed himself. “Of course not. But I
do think such drastic action is unnecessary.”

“I agree,” AnnaRail said.

“And I,” added Malka.

Olivia’s response came slowly. “I will not
rule out killing a being that may someday become a threat to this
family. But I do believe that, at this time, such action would be
premature.”

Marjinell looked from face, to face, to
face. She stood in a huff. “Well, if that’s all you think of my
word—”

“Sit down, daughter,” Olivia commanded
sharply. “Your opinion is always valued here. But we all are
sometimes wrong.”

Marjinell sat down slowly.

Olivia looked at AnnaRail carefully. “Was
there anything else?”

AnnaRail frowned. “Well yes, there was. His
dreams are rather odd. I encountered several fragments during the
seeking, and I asked him about them.”

She hesitated for a moment, but Olivia urged
her on impatiently. “Well?”

“Well, to begin with, he doesn’t think of
them as dreams, but rather as another life that he leads elsewhere,
a life that is of no greater or lesser importance than the one he
leads here. And that impression is compounded by the nature of his
dreams, which I believe are more coherent than the dreams we
experience. Apparently it’s not uncommon for his next dream to take
up where the last one left off, to the point where he thinks that
when he goes to sleep here, he wakes up in another life, and when
he goes to sleep there, he wakes up here.”

“Very curious,” Roland said.

AnnaRail agreed. “Yes. Very curious. And
then there’s the skeleton king—at least that’s what he calls this
being—a recurrent specter that he meets often in his dreams.”